


Testing Range

by JanaxIV



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [5]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Gen, Gun Violence, Named Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV), Torture, elemental damage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-06
Updated: 2021-03-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:43:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29882697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JanaxIV/pseuds/JanaxIV
Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1893517
Kudos: 3





	Testing Range

He has lost track of how many days he has been in captivity. The only thing constant is the ebb and flow of the Legatus having him dragged out of his cell for questioning - not that it was doing much. For however long Kere’a had been here, nary a word had left his lips, and that was clearly bothering his captor. 

One thing that had become more common though, was that he ended up in spaces he had most certainly not passed out in. It almost makes him laugh, knowing that the Garleans around him are afraid enough to not mess with his restraints while he is awake - too worried for their well being, to risk going near his claws and teeth. So once more, he finds himself in a strange place, arms suspended above him with heavy manacles. The walls of the room are covered in craters, no doubt from sustained gunblade fire...a training ground then? Curious, but not entirely unexpected. By now they must have noticed talk alone wouldn’t bring anything out of him…

“Ah~ Good morning my darling little monster.”

Oh how he loathed that voice, the disgusting smugness of the bastard making him draw his lips back in a viscous snarl. What he picture he must make like this - practically wearing rags, his long hair open and partly obscuring his face, eyes blazing with maddening rage… certainly not far from the feral beast the Garleans already see him as.

“How good to see you in high spirits still. Though, while I admit your defiance was amusing for quite a while, I have grown tired of it. So...let’s see if this won’t loosen your tongue, no?”

Kere’a watches as the other begins loading his gunblade, the bullets giving off an eerie glow, each of a different colour. It doesn’t take a magitek genius to figure they are charged with some form of aether, presumably of the elemental sort.

“I will ask you once more. How many members does your group have, and how many of them possess the Echo?”

The ever same question...for days, the man had tried to get an answer out of Kere’a, using anything from wicked promises to threats. Nothing had worked so far - and yet, he kept trying, obviously sure that something, at some point would do the trick. Whatever it was he was hoping for, it had yet to come, and so Kere'a remains silent, glaring his captor down as he has the whole time. It makes the Legatus sigh, before he takes aim, the barrel pointing at his victim’s leg.

“Still nothing? Fine. This should at least make you scream, you insolent whelp.”

Kere’a hears the shot ring out, the moment frozen in time and stretching sheer endlessly, before an infernal heat rips through his thigh, making his body convulse. He tries to keep from screaming, refusing to give the rotten whoreson any inch, eyes wide as he grits his teeth almost hard enough to crack, his fists balled to where his nails bite into his palms. There’s no telling how long it takes until he finally goes limp again, gasping for breath in the aftermath - not even Ifrits flame had managed to cause this kind of agony, and the primal beast had brought the flames of hell along with it.

“...I have to say, your resilience is almost impressive...Would you recon any of your colleagues would be able to handle pure fire aether like this?” His eyes are unfocused, but he can vaguely make out the guy going through a stack of papers, stopping at one with a hum. “Hm. Perhaps those lizard-creatures might, scales would offer a form of protection.  _ Oh~  _ What about the lovely lady, though?”

That has his body going rigid, before he tugs on his chains, almost inhuman growls coming from him. 

**“I’ll tear you to shreds, you fucking-!”**

A second shot, this one tearing through his abdomen just above the hibbone, making icy spikes spread from it’s entry and choking his words before they can come out, only the surprise keeping him from screaming. Instead the sound he makes can only be described as a loud, high-pitched inhale, followed by a ragged whine, as he desperately tries to curl in on himself despite his position. Even once the pain subsides, he's still trembling, his sore muscles twitching uselessly.

_ Ice aether.  _ The area around the wound is immediately numb, but the frost spreading through his insides stabs his lungs, allowing him little more than gasps.

"Heal him. Can't have him dying on us now."

One would think he'd have gotten used to the disgusting sensation of enemy heals, but even now it still makes him heave, despite his stomach being empty. The pain remains, as will the scars, no doubt, but for the time being he can breathe again. Seconds later, there's a hand in his hair, gripping and pulling, forcing him to look up into the bastards grinning visage.

"That one is special to you, isn't she? Fascinating...tell me: Would you be willing to kill our soldiers for her?"

Kill-! His eyes widen lightly in realisation, muscles tensing just the barest hint. He hadn't really spoken to people about it - working under the assumption that most wouldn't be willing to understand.

"So the reports were true. See, I did some digging, and it turns out that, while your ragtag bunch of misfits did cost us quite a few able men...whenever you were there, the casualties were suspiciously low. A bit of a soft hearted one, are you not?”

Gritting his teeth, he tries to pull away, but the hold on him only grows stronger, keeping him in place. Not that it would do anything for him if he were to break free of the other - it won't get him out of his shackles.

"Precious. Mercy like this, even for your enemy~ It's just your own pain that won't loosen your tongue - so all I have to do is make someone suffer in your stead, hm?"

The question makes him growl, just before he surges forward, trying to bite and finding nothing but air. Not that he had much hope in the first place…

He feels the cold metal of the gunblade against his skin, another shot ringing out, surges of electric energy making him convulse. With the reminder of pain etched on his mind and body, his eyes roll back and he goes limp in his shackles.


End file.
